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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264839">A Bit of a Mess in the Library</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms'>tinydooms</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, fierce feminist archaeologists, librarians doing their thing, problem solving</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:47:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In Evelyn's absence, the museum’s janitorial team had at least righted the bookshelves, all eighteen of them, but the books and papers and periodicals themselves were still scattered willy-nilly around the room. In a way it was a blessing--any attempt by an untrained layperson would make even more a hash of the categories and alphabetization--but it was also a damned nuisance. Looking at it with fresh eyes, she could see why Dr. Bey had simply locked the doors in her absence and cursed her for breathing. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Bit of a Mess in the Library</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>A Bit of a Mess in the Library</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Cairo, November 1922</em>
</p><p>“Wow!”</p><p>“Oh, please don’t,” Evie said crossly, unpinning her hat and tossing it down on a table. “I <em> told </em> you it was bad.”</p><p>Rick stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he stared around the wreckage of the library. “You told me you made a ‘huge mess’. This is a<em> lot </em> more than a huge mess!”</p><p>Evie sighed. In her absence, Mohammed, Abdul, and Bob had at least righted the bookshelves, all eighteen of them, but the books and papers and periodicals themselves were still scattered willy-nilly around the room. In a way it was a blessing--any attempt by an untrained layperson would make even more a hash of the categories and alphabetization--but it was also a damned nuisance. Looking at it with fresh eyes, she could see why Dr. Bey had simply locked the doors in her absence and cursed her for breathing. </p><p>It was Evie’s first day back at work after their misadventure at Hamunaptra. Rick had offered to walk her to work, ambling along beside her as they took the tram out of Zamalek into the center of Cairo and walked the last few streets to the Museum of Antiquities. He was looking quite dashing, if Evie thought so herself, in a new suit of soft dark blue twill and a brown homburg and Evie was proud to have him on her arm. Still, she had felt a twinge of worry as she unlocked the library door. She had warned Rick about the mess, but seeing it now and seeing his wide eyes, shame flooded her and she turned away. </p><p>“Hey,” Rick said, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “It’s not broken beyond repair, right? We can fix it.”</p><p>“Yes,” Evie said forlornly. “But one does feel a real prat for causing this in the first place.”</p><p>“How <em> did </em> you do it?”</p><p>Evie pointed to the ladder on the floor under the books and narrated her attempts at shelving, her thoughtless accident. Rick listened, biting his lip, his face going through a series of extortions. When she finished, he gave a great shout of laughter and put his hands on her shoulders. </p><p>“Evelyn Carnahan,” he said, grinning, “you are a firecracker.” </p><p>He kissed her forehead and Evie relaxed, grinning sheepishly. </p><p>“I suppose that’s one word for it. Anyway, you mustn’t tell Professor and Mrs. Emerson what happened.”</p><p>“Of course not.” Rick shrugged his jacket off and slung it over the back of a chair. “We’ll let them think the mob got to it.”</p><p>“Oh God, can you imagine?” Evie shuddered. She knew what happened to libraries when angry people got to them. </p><p>“Yeah.” Rick shook his head, rolling up his sleeves. Really, he had wonderful forearms, and such lovely hands. Evie almost didn’t hear his next question. “Where should we begin?”</p><p>“Um.” She looked around. “The A’s, I suppose. Yes, the A’s. Let’s start by just putting the books on the shelves in their appropriate sections. If you see anything that looks bent or damaged, put it on the table.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>They set to work, hefting books up into the shelves, working by author and subject. Really, it wasn’t difficult work, just time consuming and quite labor intensive. Evie watched Rick out of the corner of her eye as he slotted books back into the heavy oak shelves. He handled them gently, respectfully, occasionally pausing to read a title or look at the cover. It still amazed Evie that he was here at all, that he liked her--loved her--well enough to stay; that he was happy to take direction from her and content to work alongside her. The work went so much faster with two pairs of hands. </p><p>“Were you going to do all of this yourself?” Rick asked after a while. </p><p>Evie, halfway up the bookshelf on the step ladder, leaned down to take a couple of books from him. “Ideally I have assistants, but they’ve all swanned off to Luxor to see Howard Carter’s new find. I may ask Mrs. Emerson if she knows anyone willing to help. She knows everyone.”</p><p>“She’s the acting director’s wife, right?” That was the other thing about Rick that still amazed Evie: he listened to what she said and remembered it. </p><p>“That’s right; Amelia P. Emerson. She’s very efficient; she’s the one who helped us the most after my parents--well. In any case, she’ll likely be able to rustle up some help.”</p><p>Rick smiled up at her. “Can she rustle up some sliding ladders that we can bolt to the shelves? It’s no wonder that everything fell over if you’re only using a step ladder to reach the high shelves. You should at least have an A-frame.”</p><p>“I’ll put it on my list,” Evie said, smiling. </p><p>After a while they stopped for tea, made in the kettle in Evie’s tiny cupboard of an office. They had made good progress, finishing up the A’s and B’s, heading onto the C’s. Still, it would take at least a week to get everything off of the floor, and longer to reorganize and alphabetize. Rick leaned his elbows on the table as Evie spoke, scribbling notes on a pad of paper. </p><p>“--and I’ll need to have a look at the card catalogue while I’m at it; it was due for an update even before all this,” she finished. She rubbed her brow between the eyes. “Oh dear, it’s all too much, isn't it? I can do it, but it will take forever.”</p><p>Rick spun the pad of paper around. “The way I see it, we need at least six other guys helping us, maybe eight. It took the two of us about an hour to reshelve one side, right? So if we have five teams of two, including us, working to stick everything back into place, we could feasibly have everything put away by the end of the week. And then you get some actual librarians in, some assistants, and work your magic putting everything in order.”</p><p>Evie looked at the paper. Rick had drawn a small diagram of the bookshelves, and the teams at each. A little of her overwhelm subsided. His plan was very pragmatic. Then his words registered--<em> including us- </em>-and she looked up at him. </p><p>“Do you mean to say that you want to come every day and help me with this?” </p><p>Surprise passed over Rick’s face. “Yeah, if you want me to. I’ve never worked in a library but I’m pretty good at cleaning up.”</p><p>“You darling!” Evie said. “May I kiss you?”</p><p>For a little while they were quiet, nuzzling each other, Evie’s arms around Rick’s neck. Really, he was the loveliest man, the most attentive, the nicest--</p><p>“Evelyn?” came a voice from the library proper, and they parted, reluctantly. </p><p>“Here I am,” Evie called, straightening her collar as she went back out into the disheveled space. </p><p>Mrs. Emerson stood in the doorway, looking about her with no small degree of amazement. In her seventies, she had thick grey hair and a permanent sun-tan, rewards of a life spent excavating alongside her husband. Evie had idolized her as a child; now, Mrs. Emerson’s respect and lifelong support were deeply cherished. </p><p>“Good Gad, my dear, what happened in here? It looks as though someone knocked the whole thing down! I warned Dr. Bey that he needed different bookshelves and sturdier ladders.”</p><p>“Er,” said Evie, astonished. “I’m afraid that’s almost exactly what happened.”</p><p>Mrs. Emerson shook her head. “Curse it; we must order in some rolling ladders.”</p><p>“That’s what I said,” Rick said. </p><p>The two women looked at him, standing there in the doorway to Evie’s office, his shirtsleeves rolled up, the very picture of manly beauty. Mrs. Emerson’s eyebrows rose; she darted a curious glance at Evie. </p><p>“I don’t believe I know you, Mr…?”</p><p>“This is Rick O’Connell,” Evie hastened to introduce him. “He was our guide out to Hamunaptra and now he’s...now--” </p><p>How did she describe Rick to someone like Mrs. Emerson, who was well-known to be both fiercely feminist and entirely devoted to her husband? <em> Lover </em> was not the right word for that proud Victorian, nor was it the correct term, yet <em> boyfriend </em> seemed so casual. </p><p>“I’m Evelyn’s assistant,” Rick said. “Can I offer you some tea, Mrs. Emerson?”</p><p>Mrs. Emerson looked between the two of them, her gaze turning humorous. “Thank you, Mr. O’Connell. Their guide out to Hamunaptra, were you? And did you find anything?”</p><p>Evie and Rick glanced at each other. “Yes,” Evie said, “rather too much, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Mrs. Emerson looked them over again. “I will take that cup of tea, Mr. O’Connell. Evelyn, you both must come along to Emerson and tell us everything. I suspect there’s more of a story here than just a messy library.”</p><p>“It’s a hell of a story,” Rick said. </p><p>“They usually are,” Mrs. Emerson said wryly. “I have some experience in that field, as Evelyn can tell you. Come along, now, both of you.”</p><p>In the end it took a month to clean up the library, even with the assistants that Evie brought on to help. Rick turned out to be a marvelous assistant, helping wherever he was needed, never complaining, always making some kind of conversation to make Evie laugh even if they stayed long past museum hours writing new cards for the catalogue. And if he proposed marriage one evening over cups of tea and ginger biscuits, well, the reader knows what Evie’s answer was. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Author's Note: This story came from a prompt on Tumblr, asking me to write Rick helping Evie reorganize the museum library after the events of the movie. In writing it, the senior Emersons seemed to be the most logical people to cast in the role as interim curators; Amelia and Emerson have some history with finding artefacts in places that need delicate handling. Howard Carter discovered King Tut's Tomb in November 1922, which remains one of the most amazing archaeological finds of the past century. If you would like to leave me a prompt, <a href="https://tinydooms.tumblr.com/ask">please feel free</a>! And as always, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think in the comments!</p>
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